


When You Give a Cyborg Some Clothes

by LoverlyMadhatter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Embarrassment, M/M, Making Shit Up About Cyborgs, Making Shit Up About Omnics, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2016, Other, Public Nudity, Robot Sex, Sparring, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8844013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoverlyMadhatter/pseuds/LoverlyMadhatter
Summary: When you give a cyborg some clothes, his omnic will not stop staring.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meatballsaucy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=meatballsaucy).



> HERE YOU GO KIDS my first wireplay fic, first overwatch fic, and the first fic I wrote for Nanowrimo 2016
> 
> I love Genyatta more than I love life itself, i love these boys these gay robots
> 
> Written for @meatballsaucy bc she's the only reason I actually am into Genyatta and for talkin ow ships with me all the time <3

Numbani is just as beautiful and lovely as Genji remembered it to be. He had been here before, of course – as any seasoned traveler had – but never had he gotten a chance to see it as a cyborg. The beauty of the city seemed heightened, but whether that was due to personal peace or his unique duality, he couldn’t decide. They weren’t here for pleasure, which Genji knew well; instead there were events and speeches to attend, and a charity ball to wrap up their few short days. But Genji was determined to enjoy himself. And, in Zenyatta’s own words, “Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work.”

Plus, Zenyatta seemed just as awestruck and excited as Genji felt.

“It’s so wonderful to see humans and omnics in harmony like this,” he whispers in wonderment, hands gesturing vaguely in the air. He searches for words, but they don’t seem to come to him.

Truly, Genji must agree, it _is_ an incredible sight. All over the airport there are omnics and humans conversing as if they were one in the same. This was more than just hopes and ideals: this was reality. Omnics and humans working the front desk together in matching Air Numbani outfits, humans enjoying food at the airport restaurants while omnic friends and partners accompanied them. Genji’s heart leaps when he spots two women – one omnic, one human – hand in hand while sharing a kiss. Zenyatta doesn’t catch him looking, thankfully too absorbed in his own observations of the transportation hub.

Though the omnic didn’t have facial features, Genji knew a smile when he saw it.

“Come, Genji,” Zenyatta urges finally, after taking in his fill of the sights.

Their travel through the airport is much swifter than usual, lacking as they are of their security entourage. It’s like a weight is lifted off of them, speeding through the terminals unhindered. It was a necessary burden in most cases, but in Numbani, where omnics and humans lived as equals, it wasn’t needed. So, their travel is smooth and easy and free.

But not smooth enough for them to leave without being stopped.

“Omigosh!” shouts a voice, close enough to Genji to put him on edge. Ten feet away from them stand a pair of omnics, lights blinking rapidly on their foreheads. Their hands are clasped in front of them and their bodies are almost _shaking_ with excitement. Then, out of their mouths comes a question neither of them are really expecting: “Can we get your autograph?”

Genji looks at Zenyatta, assuming of course that they’re speaking to him, but it becomes evident that their eyes are on the cyborg himself. They’ve reached him by this time, notebooks pulled out of their bags. Genji feels his whole body heat up and steam jets out from his vents, and he realizes he’s not sure what to do with his hands.

“Ah, are you a fan of my pupil?” Zenyatta says, voice serene. But Genji hears the playfulness underneath it, the little jab of prideful teasing.

“Of _course_ we are!” the first omnic exclaims, holding out her pen and paper for him. Genji’s not sure what to do when he takes it in his hand, so he quickly scribbles his name in kanji and hands it back to her. It looks like garbage, looks like he hasn’t written in years, but the other omnic, much more shy, hands him her notebook anyway.

“He’s a _legend_ in Numbani!” exclaims the more boisterous of the two. She turns to Zenyatta and adds, with a wave of her hand, “Of course, as are you, Master Zenyatta.”

He inclines his head, humble. “I am honored that the people of Numbani feel that way.”

“And I’m honored to meet both of you!” she sighs, pressing her hand to her chest. “Genji _and_ Zenyatta in one place? Incredible. But my friend here is the one who’s really excited.” She throws an elbow into her friend’s side while she’s putting her notebook away. The girl looks up, surprised to see all of their eyes on her, and then begins to rub the back of her neck with her hand.

“Uh… yes. It’s… a pleasure,” she stutters. “I uh… I’ve always wanted to be like you, Genji. You’re, ah, so bold and… I wish I had a shred of the confidence that uh, you have.” More heat begins to radiate off of her body as she speaks, hot enough that Genji can feel it from three feet away.

“My apologies,” he replies quietly. “I am… not sure what you refer to.”

As he speaks, Zenyatta’s mirth seems to double, and Genji can hear the thinly veiled laugh beneath his whirring processors. He glances to his master, hoping for some sort of support or clarification, but he’s already doing a great job of finding interest in something else. Zenyatta’s face is pointed elsewhere, gazing up toward a poster for a movie, but he’s vibrating like he’s barely holding in a laugh. Genji would not find help from Zenyatta here.

“Your, ah…” begins the shy omnic, until her lively friend steps in.

“Your rejection of the prison that is clothing!” she exclaims, hands gesturing to his body. “You possess a confidence that even _I_ don’t have, displaying your full form in public with so much comfort.” Her hands are clasped in front of her now, face looking off to the distance with a dreamy sigh.

Genji is confused, but only for a moment; he’s not stupid, just awestruck. And now, with horror, he realizes that he’s also _naked_.

**

The ride to their hotel is short, but it’s enough time for Genji to ask Zenyatta what he needs to. In private.

“Master,” Genji begins, immediately after the car door closes behind them.

“Genji,” Zenyatta replies, turning to face him. Genji’s face feels hot when he hears the mischief lacing Zenyatta’s voice. He realizes, belatedly, that Zenyatta was completely a part of the conversation before, and he knew exactly what the omnics were talking about when they mentioned his ‘confidence.’

His mask stays on, but he averts his eyes anyway, unwilling to look the omnic in the face as he asks the question, “Why didn’t you tell me that I’ve been naked this entire time?”

Genji has known Zenyatta long enough to know whether his surprise is genuine – this surprise, as Zenyatta places his hand over his chest plate and pulls his head back – isn’t.

“Genji,” Zenyatta says with mock astonishment. “I was not aware that you were, as humans put it, _naked_.”

“Master,” Genji replies with some desperation. He loves the teasing, loves their banter, but this is already mortifying. Zenyatta seems to get the point.

“I apologize, Genji,” Zenyatta says now, waving his hand in the air. “I suppose I never brought it up because your soul was my main concern. It always has been. And, I must be honest, it had not occurred to me that you minded being nude.”

“But,” Genji pleads, mouth unsure of what words to form. “I don’t… why?”

Zenyatta shrugs, bringing his hands in front of him in their resting position. He finds lessons in every moment, but Genji isn’t sure he wants one now. Not when he’s realizing that his entire cyborg existence has been crude and embarrassing.

“The body is merely a vessel for the soul, Genji. Nudity is a natural part of existence, as much for humans as omnics. Since your soul was my focus and you seemed – ahem – _comfortable_ in your nudity, I did not think it pressing to mention.”

Blood rushes into Genji’s cheeks. There’s enough blood in his face that he thinks he might pass out, even when he knows that his machinery wouldn’t allow it.

“But I’ve been _naked_. I’ve... I’ve been with you at charity balls in King’s Row – all those people… and the monastery! The other monks! And,” Genji’s voice is desperate and breathy, every public moment rushing back to him, the piercing stares of omnics taking on a whole new meaning. “Oh God I was naked in _Overwatch_.”

Zenyatta does not hide his smile very well from Genji, especially when his voice lilts the way it does.

“You need not be so worried, Genji,” he says matter-of-factly. “Your form is beautiful as it was created because it belongs to _you_. But – “ There’s that smile. “If wearing clothing would make you more comfortable, then you must do what puts you at peace.”

Genji keeps himself from huffing, just leans back in his seat and folds his hands in his lap. He looks down at them, feeling open and exposed in front of the being he respects most in this world, knowing that his form is on display. _Your form is beautiful_ , a mantra in his mind, anything to keep him from thinking about every single person that’s laid eyes on him in the past few years.

“Could we… stop by a department store before we reach our hotel?”

“Of course, Genji.”

**

It’s been quite some time since Genji’s had to worry about current fashion, but he’s confident that styles haven’t changed so much in the past few years. Besides, it’s not like he’s been _dead_. Zenyatta waits around patiently while Genji tries outfits on, taking the attention of omnic and human fans alike when the need arises.

“Genji,” Zenyatta utters quietly as he raps on the door to the changing room. He opens it only after he’s put pants on, and comes face to face with a t-shirt that reads, in black glitter print, “HOT BOT” He rolls his eyes with a smile when Zenyatta laughs.

Genji leaves the store with a few bags of clothes and a larger suitcase. His sense of style is still intact, he realizes, as the human cashier bites down on her lip when he turns to leave the store. The laughter is palpable from Zenyatta as they leave, resting his hand on Genji’s shoulder.

“Are you more comfortable, my pupil?” he asks, head tilted just so. Genji looks down at himself and realizes that he absolutely is. The jeans and t-shirt accentuate his form, but do not hide it, a comfortable marriage between his old human body and his new one. Plus, the churning in his gut is gone when Zenyatta looks him up and down.

Until Zenyatta pulls out that godawful t-shirt and slips it on.

**

Their schedule for the week has enough downtime that Genji gets a chance to go shopping again. He doesn’t take Zenyatta with him any other time, instead choosing to make a few stops to a clothier and a tailor on his own.

They’re still busy, though, with some other charity event or speech or volunteering opportunity each day, and Genji finds himself restless when they arrive at the Equality for Omnics Foundation charity ball at the end of the week.

When they arrive, however, he finds himself somewhat revitalized: as every guest at the party lays their eyes on him, there’s a palpable air of shock that grows and grows. As they enter the ballroom, filled with politicians and celebrities and plus-ones, Genji feels every eye on him. At least, though, he can cover himself, so he doesn’t mind so much.

“Genji! Zenyatta!” comes the chirping voice of Lena Oxton, head bobbing up and down through the crowd. She lets out a puff of air to blow a lock of hair out of her face, then appears in front of them with a flash. “It’s so good to see you again, loves! I didn’t know if –“ She stops mid sentence, and Genji can’t help but feel a little bit of pride bubble up. Lena Oxton is never speechless. Yet, here she stands, eyes wide and roving over Genji’s tailored suit, hugging every curve of his cybernetic body.

As a Shimada, it was his duty to be dressed to the nines, whether he wanted to or not. So he _knew_ he looked good in green – moreso now that it matched everything and not just his hair – and the undershirt complimented well with the slate gray suit and black tie.

It’s not just the green, though; Genji knows he just _looks good_.

“Genji,” she says, breathless, cheeks pink with a blush. “You look great!”

With a grin, he removes his mask and leans in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Does it suit me?” he asks, turning his body so that she can get a good look at his back. She makes a show of dragging her eyes over his body. Though he knows it’s meant as a joke, there’s still the telling flush on her cheeks, and Genji can’t help but feel a tad smug.

“Of course! Makes you look tip top!”

They carry on for a few minutes more before parting, and Genji turns to Zenyatta, strangely quiet during the conversation. He wonders vaguely if it’s because of their relation through Mondatta, but when he turns to meet his master’s face, he’s struck by something quite odd: Zenyatta, pointedly, is staring at him. Genji knows that omnics don’t have _eyes_ , per se, but he knows when they’re staring.

“Master?” Genji asks beneath his breath, quiet enough that the people around them can’t hear. Zenyatta doesn’t answer, just keeps staring at Genji, so intently that blood rises to his cheeks. So, he tries one more time, punctuated with a nudge. “ _Master_.”

It seems to drag him back to their current situation with a little shake of his head. “Hm?” he mutters. “Oh, right. My apologies, Genji. Shall we get moving?”

Genji quirks an eyebrow, but it goes unnoticed as Zenyatta turns and leaves without him. He decides not to press the issue – Zenyatta could easily get caught in his own thoughts. But the nagging question doesn’t quite slip from his mind: why would he stare at _Genji_?

The rest of the event, Zenyatta seems just as unfocused, and it wouldn’t bother Genji if he hadn’t caught him staring again. Zenyatta seems to be more covert than the first time, only plastering his eyes on Genji when he’s sure Genji isn’t paying attention. It takes all of his ninja training to catch Zenyatta in the act, but it’s always fleeting – quickly turning his head away before making eye contact, starting conversations with other guests before Genji has a chance to speak, moving quickly through the crowd to lose him.

But, even as careful as Zenyatta is, Genji can _feel_ his gaze. It’s piercing and pointed, and Genji’s not sure he could ignore it if he wanted to. He’s not sure how Zenyatta does it, isn’t sure if Zenyatta even _knows_ he’s doing it, but every time his eyes are on Genji, he feels like he’s on fire. It’s all he can do not to let steam puff out of his vents during a conversation with Dr. Zeigler, Zenyatta standing just slightly behind and discreetly pressing him with his gaze. Angela doesn’t seem to notice, but the heat coming off his body is definitely adjusting the ambient temperature.

He wants to press Zenyatta about it, or at least really catch him, but doesn’t get the chance. There are members of Overwatch littering the party, and when they’re not asking him about his pilgrimmage, some other politician or celebrity is begging his attention. It leaves little room to contemplate, but plenty of time for Zenyatta to continue staring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you give a cyborg some clothes, he'll ask his master to spar.

When the party finally ends, Genji is absolutely _vibrating_ to get out of there. It was wonderful to see his friends again, and to listen to Zenyatta melt people with his words, but it’s too stuffy and his suit is too tight and he wants to _run_. Zenyatta notices immediately, and with a teasing lilt in his voice, asks, “Do you wish to spar?”

The lights on his cybernetics flash, dulled by the suit he wears. He knows his master can clearly see his enthusiasm, however, and there’s no point in hiding it. Which brings them to where they are now: Genji quietly picking the lock to the hotel roof, Zenyatta keeping lookout behind him.

“Are you sure we should do this, Master?” Genji asks, nervousness prickling the back of his neck. It’s soon joined by that burning stare from Zenyatta, so Genji turns around to face him – anything to stop his hands from shaking.

“I can see how eager you are, and sometimes it is best to give in to those desires – so long as they are not given to harming anyone else,” he reassures, but Genji knows he’s just as eager to get the ball rolling. The excitement is visible in the omnic’s body – the way his processes are whirring just a little faster, the orbs around his neck lighting up just a little brighter than usual.

“Genji,” Zenyatta prods, calm thinly veiling his eagerness. “You are staring.”

“Ah. So I am,” he replies, quickly turning back to the task at hand. He’s thankful, not for the first time, for his mask.

“Besides,” Zenyatta continues, picking up their previous conversation. “We have not sparred since Chicago, and we will lock the door once we leave. It will be as if we were never here.”

The lock finally gives way with a _click_ , and the door opens out onto the rooftop. He holds it for Zenyatta, but his master insists he go first, and there’s that burning stare again. As Genji makes his way out onto the breezy rooftop, Zenyatta’s gaze lights him on fire, and he can’t stop the steam from puffing out of his abdomen. Zenyatta makes no comment, only joins him on the rooftop in silence.

The view is beautiful, and Genji is not so eager that he would miss this opportunity. He stares out quietly, taking in the sight of Numbani below. There are no fences on the roof to block their vision – another reminder that they are not meant to be here – and all around they can see bright lights. Outside of the city in the furthest stretches, Genji can just make out the African savannah, green lights sparkling where they meet the grasses outside of town. The breeze lifts slightly, and he takes off his mask to breathe in the air, clean and cool, renewed vigor coursing through his body.

Genji turns to Zenyatta, grin wild on his face and fire in his eyes, only to catch the omnic quickly turn his head. Not for the first time, he ignores it, but only because this time Genji has some tricks up his sleeve.

“Shall we begin?” Zenyatta inquires. The orbs floating around his neck are brightly lit against the dark backdrop, and Genji can feel the smile in his voice. He wants to respond with a yes, but he can’t do that until he can feel the breeze on his sensors – it’s not enough to just feel it on his face. The suit he wears is still stuffy, still too tight.

“Could I request a moment to undress?”

Zenyatta seems surprised. “What about your nudity?” he asks, pressing the tips of his fingers together.

Genji shrugs, grin still wild. “My suit is simply too tight to fight in.” It’s one of the tricks up his sleeve, and even though it’s unfair, he needs to test a theory.

Genji doesn’t bother waiting for Zenyatta to give him privacy – after all, Zenyatta has spent more hours looking at Genji’s unclothed form than anyone else. He’s quick about it, but not hasty, and takes his time carefully unbuttoning and removing the jacket as the first piece.

His theory is confirmed relatively quickly, Zenyatta not even attempting to hide his burning stare. The omnic’s gaze bores into Genji as he pops the button on his pants undone, dragging them over his ass and down his thighs with as much show as he can give without getting caught. Genji, not wanting Zenyatta to know he notices, keeps his gaze averted and chooses instead to look outward to the city while he unbuttons the green undershirt and slips off the tie. Once he’s fully nude once more, he turns to Zenyatta, who doesn’t cease his staring.

“I am ready to begin.”

Zenyatta shakes his head ever so slightly, pulling himself back into the moment. Genji’s relieved he’s already grinning, because there’s no way he could hide that toothy smile while his oh-so-collected master is oh-so-flustered.

After a moment, Zenyatta nods, then pulls his legs up so he’s floating a few feet off the ground. He readies himself while Genji unsheathes his sword, folding his fingers together and lighting each orb individually before they all raise and drop back into place.

“As am I,” Zenyatta finally replies, turning toward Genji. The familiar static of anticipation crackles in the air, and they move apart until there’s six or seven feet between them. Electric tension sparks all around them, lighting up Genji’s every nerve – his favorite feeling.

“Begin,” says Genji, and then the static explodes.

Zenyatta is the first to attack – a surprising move – and sends an orb directly toward Genji’s chest. Genji, not expecting it, only deflects at the last second, aim slightly off. It doesn’t reflect back into Zenyatta’s chest plate like he wants to, but instead bounces harmlessly into the door to the roof. But before he ever hears it hit the door, he’s already on the move, climbing up the vent shaft and attempting to find better ground from above.

“Master,” he calls, once Zenyatta is out of his sight. An orb flashes past his face and he narrowly misses it. Zenyatta is attacking almost recklessly, his mind is somewhere else. Genji plans to find out _where_ exactly that is.

“Genji,” calls Zenyatta, humoring his little cat and mouse game. He doesn’t appear from behind the other vent shafts, and he’s thought forward enough to throw his voice. It sounds like it’s coming from everywhere, and Genji has no bearing as to where he is.

Genji climbs down, feet and hands making only the barest whisper of noise. He cups his hands around his mouth and begins to speak once more, “I have a proposition.”

There’s silence, and he’s sure Zenyatta isn’t moving. He’s waiting for Genji to make a move, as he usually does.

“Could it not have been proposed before our battle begun?” asks Zenyatta in reply, his voice still coming from everywhere and nowhere. Genji doesn’t deign it with a response.

“If I win this spar,” he calls, tongue thick in his mouth. It’s not the kindest or most straightforward way to get answers, but it’s all he’s got. “I wish for you to tell me what is troubling you, Master.”

The statement is met with a moment of silence, and then a deep chuckle that sends steam blowing from his vents.

“Now this is a surprising situation. Are you certain you are not just attempting to unnerve me?” Zenyatta punctuates the end of his sentence with an orb from above, one that hits Genji square in the chest. He follows it up with that tinkling laugh, and he’s disappeared again.

Apparently, he’s playing by a different set of rules than normal. But so is Genji.

“I am not,” Genji replies, moving his position. If Zenyatta is on the move, then he needs to be. He moves much more quickly than Zenyatta, which works to his advantage… as long as Zenyatta can’t find him. “I simply have noticed disquiet in your soul.”

“Ah, so the master becomes the pupil.”

He sounds much closer than Genji thinks he is, and he realizes his mistake too late. As he turns around to find the source of his voice, an orb is already speeding in his direction, and it hits him square in the back. He falters, stumbling forward, but is quick enough to scamper up the next air duct before Zenyatta can land another hit.

Genji’s breathing comes heavy and harsh to him now, nearly at his limit. If he’s going to win this against Zenyatta, he needs to find the calm in himself and focus on a hit from behind; at this rate there’s no way he’s going to win in a direct faceoff. So, he brings himself back to center, closing his eyes for a split second and focusing all of his energy on calming his limbs. The adrenaline shooting through his veins is schooled into keeping his body still and silent, and he makes his way around the roof with assassin skill.

He searches for what feels like minutes, though he knows only moments have passed. Patiently, quietly, he keeps his eyes peeled, silently moving from shadow to shadow. He forgoes duct travel, clanging as loudly as they do – anything to keep himself silent and out of sight.

Genji’s patience is finally rewarded when he comes across the slim omnic peering out from a corner. He has an orb at the ready, floating eagerly beside him with twinkling blue lights. His processors are whirring, the lights flashing on his forehead with excitement. All of it brings a grin creeping onto Genji’s face; Zenyatta’s back is to him, and he seems to have no idea that he’s even there.

After years of sparring, Genji knows exactly what Zenyatta can take, knows exactly how to end their spar without actually hurting him. Which is why, without hesitation, Genji calls on his dragons and strikes.

“Master!” he shouts, and it’s just enough time for Zenyatta to turn around and watch Genji, grin plastered on his face and cheeks flushed, as he races toward him with a dragon on his shoulder. The monk immediately passes into the Iris, golden light filling the whole rooftop area, but it doesn’t stop Genji from making contact. Without doing any harm, Genji presses his whole body to Zenyatta’s, using their combined weight to drop them heavily onto the rooftop. They slide a few feet, ramming into the air duct with a loud _clang_. Once it rings out, it’s replaced with Zenyatta’s deep laughter from below him, louder still in his roaring ears.

“Ah, Genji!” Zenyatta exclaims, lying defeated on the cement rooftop. His lights are still bright, and Genji knows a smile when he sees it. “Well done, my student! Well done!”

Genji removes himself from Zenyatta’s body quickly and steadily, flush spreading high on his neck and all the way to the tops of his ears. He brings his hand up run through his hair, an old force of habit, but swipes it over his sweating forehead instead.

“Thank you, master.” He leans down to give Zenyatta a hand, who gratefully takes it and pulls himself up.

“No, thank you,” he replies, dusting his pants off and setting his feet gently back onto the ground. “Now, I suppose I will honor your request. What secrets are you so consumed with knowing the answer to?”

Zenyatta’s joyful demeanor isn’t enough to keep the light mood from bursting, weighing as heavily as the topic does, and Genji suddenly finds himself at a loss for exactly what to say. He hadn’t planned out how he would ask, didn’t think it necessary with such a simple question. Why, then, did it feel like his tongue was swollen and thick in his mouth? Why was he having a hard time looking at Zenyatta?

“I – ah – well…” he begins, sheepish and wishing for his mask. But he knows Zenyatta would ask him to remove it anyway, and decides the best thing he can do is how he does everything: headstrong and without thinking. “I have noticed, master, that – ah – you have been, well… _staring_ at me, and I cannot help but wonder what I have done to anger or disappoint you, or if it something else entirely. I would make amends if necessary… or I can, uh…” Genji realizes he’s rambling, but he can’t stop his mouth now that it’s moving.

“Genji,” replies Zenyatta calmly, waiting for him to finish. He seems just as unnerved as his pupil, fingers fidgeting with his pant legs. “I… cannot answer that question with full clarity.”

There’s a moment where Genji is speechless. A moment in which he doesn’t quite believe the words that leave Zenyatta’s mouth. A moment in which he wonders what grievous error he made, so heinous that Zenyatta can’t answer the question. It’s too much to dwell on, too much to look at with uncertainty, and Genji makes up his mind in that moment.

“I refuse to accept that answer,” Genji speaks simply. “Though I honor you and your privacy… your – _actions_ – have caused me great turmoil these past few days.”

Zenyatta is silent for a moment; Genji feels something in his chest snap when Zenyatta turns away from him. He doesn’t leave, doesn’t ignore him, but doesn’t give him what he needs, either.

“I will attempt to keep my actions in check,” Zenyatta replies finally, still keeping Genji out of his view. There’s something wrong: Zenyatta’s processors are whirring too fast for how still he is, and the heat pouring off of his metal body is absolutely burning.

“Zenyatta,” he says, reaching out and grasping Zenyatta’s hand when he turns to go. He’s in too deep, now.

There’s exasperation in Zenyatta’s body language now, something Genji has never seen. It frightens him, making his hands shake and steam pour from his vents. But he can’t stop asking now – he can’t let things stay awkward between them. Not when he needs that gaze on him… not when he is sure his body would cease to function if he could never see that sparkling faceplate again.

“There is chaos within you,” Genji says quietly, still holding Zenyatta’s hand. It’s a lesson straight out of Zenyatta’s book, and he knows he can’t turn away from that.

“Genji, I do not wish to burden you with this information,” Zenyatta says, voice strained. His processors are whirring faster, and his orbs are now lighting up erratically.

“Master. Please… tell me what ails you.”

There’s silence, just the sound of the wind blowing across the savannah and through the buildings. It rattles the air ducts that surround them, making Zenyatta’s silence ring louder. For a moment, Zenyatta still beside him, Genji is sure he’s gone too far.

But then, finally _finally_ he turns to Genji, leaving his hand hot within his student’s. He looks at him with that burning gaze, and Genji feels the blood boil inside of his body.

“It appears,” Zenyatta begins, his voice shaky. “That I am aroused.”

He’s what?

_What?_

“You’re… what?” Genji splutters, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. Zenyatta tries to pull his hand out of Genji’s, but he only squeezes tighter.

“ _Aroused_ ,” huffs the flustered omnic. “I am under the assumption that you understand _quite well_ what that is.”

Genji’s body has stopped shaking, the light mood settling back in as quickly as it disappeared. Now, he finds himself with a small smile, blood still dusting his cheeks. There was never any anger, never any fear, never any reason for Genji to feel anything but _light_.

“I do,” Genji replies with a mischievous edge. “But I did not realize it was something omnics could experience.”

Again, Zenyatta tries to tug his hand out of Genji’s grip. Again, he fails.

“We can,” Zenyatta says with some exasperation. “And do quite as often as humans.”

Zenyatta begins to explain in more detail, but Genji doesn’t hear him. Instead, he interrupts, “Is it because of me?” The grin is still plastered on his face, but Zenyatta isn’t looking at him. His processors whirr loudly, louder than Genji’s ever heard them, and he averts his gaze to the concrete.

“I apologize for projecting these feelings onto you, Genji. I respect you much more than my systems are allowing me to.”

“Is that a yes?” Genji asks, gripping his hand tighter.

Zenyatta replies with only a nod, but it’s what Genji needs. Without hesitation, without thought, he uses Zenyatta’s hand to pull their bodies together, and presses his lips against Zenyatta’s hot faceplate. There’s a spark that jolts through his lips, making them tingle, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

They stay there for a while, Genji trying to taste as much of Zenyatta’s metallic tang as he can, before he finally runs out of air. He’s breathing heavily when he rests his forehead against Zenyatta’s, still gripping his hand tightly.

“You can feel that, correct?” Genji asks breathlessly, chest tight and stomach churning.

There’s a smile in Zenyatta’s voice that he hears again, pleasant and everything he’s ever wanted. “Of course,” Zenyatta replies, high and clear and if Genji isn’t mistaken, _shaking_. It’s all the urging he needs to dive back in, sealing his lips against the seam where gold meets chrome.

He’s not sure what else to do, just lets his body fuel his actions with pure instinct. Genji has experienced many a tryst, though never with an omnic, but his lips move like they’re pressing against a human mouth. It’s so much better than that, though, because he can feel the vibrations of Zenyatta’s processors through his chest plate, feels the heat increase as they whir with more power.

“Genji,” Zenyatta mutters, speaker muffled just slightly by Genji’s mouth. Genji doesn’t pull back until Zenyatta presses his hands lightly against his chest. “We should attempt to move into our hotel room.”

He finally relents, but doesn’t stop holding the omnic in his arms. He looks down at him and, without his faceplate, unleashes his most seductive grin. “Attempt?”

Zenyatta’s fingers press harder into Genji’s chest, and then he’s leaning forward so close that Genji can taste chrome. “If I want to do all of the things that I am imagining,” Zenyatta whispers, cool voice a sharp contrast to the filth that leaves his mouth. “Then our ‘attempt’ had better be quite valiant.”

Without hesitation, fueled by lust and adrenaline and joy, Genji lifts Zenyatta over his shoulder and makes his way swiftly to the roof’s door. He quickly grabs his mask and clicks it back into place, all while Zenyatta slaps weakly at his back, giggling as he tells him that he can walk just fine on his own. But Genji can move more quickly than Zenyatta, and he isn’t about to waste a second.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your cyborg wins his spar, he'll want to go back to their hotel room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did u want robot sex?
> 
> here it is.

Like every moment that they share together, Zenyatta turns sex into a teaching moment. Though, instead of annoyance, Genji is grateful: he doesn’t know _anything_ about omnic arousal.

“I was under the impression Dr. Zeigler had given you this information,” sighs Zenyatta, hands fiddling deftly with the wires exposed on Genji’s lower back. His gut twists when Zenyatta rubs one between his fingers, a moan escaping his throat. “As important as it is for some humans to release sexual tension,” Zenyatta continues, turning Genji into a moaning puddle of want. “So too is it important for some omnics – and cyborgs – to relieve that tension. So I am surprised Angela did not – “

“Zenyatta,” Genji groans, back arching up into Zenyatta’s touch. “C-could we – ah – stop talking about Dr. Zeigler?” He imagines the woman who rebuilt his body, the woman he looked up to as a mother bringing him back to life, and the blood rushes out of his face. Not like this, not while Zenyatta’s fingers are tugging on the wires at the base of his back and oh _Iris he’s twisting them_ _oh God_.

“Mmm,” hums Zenyatta in his throat, bemused. “Of course.”

Genji’s fingers dig into the pillow beneath his chest when Zenyatta snaps one of the wires like a rubber band.

“These are delicate,” he says, voice silk from his speakers. “But that does not mean knowing hands must be _gentle._ ”

Genji nearly comes when he snaps it again. Sparks flash across his vision, steam bursting forth from the vents on his sides and in his neck. The churning in his gut only strengthens into a hurricane, body vibrating and adrenaline coursing through his veins, but as quickly as it started, it stops. The feeling of Zenyatta’s fingers twirling in his wires disappears, and blood rushes into his face when he hears the moan that rips out of his own throat.

“Patience, my pupil,” Zenyatta murmurs, stroking the area just outside of the wires, sensitive and delicate but not enough. “Turn over.”

Genji complies without thought, clutching the pillow to his chest; Zenyatta chuckles and tugs it out of Genji’s grip, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he does so. He readjusts so that he straddles Genji’s thigh, looking directly into his face with an intensity that burns with the intensity of a star. His lights are so bright on his forehead, twinkling and sparkling and he looks like a constellation.

“Zenyatta,” he breathes, feeling the blood fill his face. Zenyatta seems to realize that he’s staring and turns his head, embarrassed.

“My apologies,” he mutters, but Genji will have none of it. He reaches up and pulls Zenyatta’s face back toward him, then presses a kiss to his faceplate, long and deep.

“I… like it when you stare,” Genji admits, pressing another kiss to his face in the hopes that he can feel a fraction of Genji’s appreciation. He hears Zenyatta’s processors whir faster for a moment, and smiles against the chrome.

After all, he can’t help but grin, watching the omnic he admires so dearly fall apart on top of him.

Once Zenyatta is sufficiently back together, he presses simultaneously on two of the buttons that dot Genji’s abdomen. “If my intuition is correct…” he trails off, and with a _pop_ , the plate lifts up. He lifts it off of Genji’s body, and exposed are wires on the lower half of his torso, connecting underneath skin that Genji didn’t know was still there. The skin is scarred and thin, stretching across wires and glowing with the green tint of his blood. Air breathes across it for the first time in years, sending shivers down his spine.

“You were unaware that this could be removed,” Zenyatta states without hint of a question. He trails his finger gently across the skin where it is pulled taught over wires, and Genji gasps.

“Yes,” he replies, choking on the word as it leaves him. The skin is _so_ sensitive, but the wires that thread through are leagues beyond that feeling. Zenyatta lifts one where it leaves his skin and tugs, forcing Genji’s hips off of the mattress.

“M-master!” he breathes, a wave of pleasure washing over him. It’s more sensitive than any part of his body ever was, the wires a sensual conduit of unimaginable feeling. Zenyatta’s whole hand slips into his wires, gently sliding them against smooth metal.

“Is this pleasurable, Genji?” he asks, gaze hot on his face. He tweaks his hand for good measure, and it’s got Genji’s whole body arching into Zenyatta’s touch.

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Genji groans, foul language be damned. Zenyatta chuckles again, vibrating deep through his body.

“You are quite beautiful like this,” he hums, tweaking his fingers again, drawing gasp after gasp out of Genji’s throat. “You are beautiful no matter what, but like this… you are exquisite.”

He strokes his fingers along each wire in turn, driving Genji into fevered scrabbling. His fingers search or purchase, adrenaline coursing through him, and he wants nothing more than to _touch_. A whine tears out of his throat and his fingers dance on Zenyatta’s chest plate, searching for something to grab and pull.

“Use your words, Genji.”

His voice is a gasp as he wraps his fingers around Zenyatta’s wrist, and there’s that deep chuckle that sends sparks up his spine. “Let me touch you.”

“Of course,” Zenyatta replies, never removing his hands from where they’re tangled in Genji’s web of wires. Instead, he lifts the hand that Genji’s fingers are wrapped around and guides it to his waist. There, wires wrap around his hip and attach into his spinal column, treading with precision all the way up to his skull. “I am sensitive h – ahn!”

Before he can finish his sentence, Genji’s fingers are already thrust into the wires, tugging and pulling with the same delicate fervor Zenyatta has shown him. It seems that he understands well enough, because Zenyatta’s hand has stilled and he’s doubled over, processors whirring loudly.

“G-genji,” he groans, and the grin comes back to Genji’s face. Until Zenyatta’s fingers start moving again.

Their exploration turns quickly into another spar. With Genji’s fingers still in Zenyatta’s wires, Zenyatta takes the moment to dive back in to Genji’s, twirling them and twisting them in between his fingers. The smooth metal against them feels divine and Genji wants nothing more than to lose himself in the blinding white feeling; but, this is a battle now, and Genji never backs down from a fight.

He squeezes his hand down, clenching around a bundle of wires all at once, and Zenyatta cries out. Crackles spit with his voice, the sheer volume threatening to short his speakers. Genji grins and squeezes down again, but Zenyatta is already fighting him, pinching one particularly large wire and rolling it in between his fingers.

White blasts across Genji’s vision and he feels his body still. His fingers must have clenched down around Zenyatta’s wires again, because Zenyatta is calling his name, directly into his ears, crackling and staticy.

Genji crests and finds himself in Hanamura, brother beside him at the koi pond. Hanzo has a rare smile on his face, tossing bits of bread into the water, their mother beside them with a bag of crumbs. Genji feels her warm hand press onto his shoulder, feels Hanzo push him playfully so he’s teetering on the edge of the water, hears the clear high laugh of his brother. It’s beautiful and then it’s gone, leaving him with a warm feeling flowing through his chest and tears wet on his face. But where he is now is just as wonderful, with Zenyatta’s body pressed against him and faceplate sparking against his lips, golden light bathing their entire room.

Zenyatta comes back to the present a moment later, six ethereal arms disappearing while the golden shine around his body fades. He gasps like he’s been struck when Genji tries to move, and realizes that he’s still tangled in Zenyatta’s wires.

“Genji, ah… too sensitive,” he chokes, and Genji’s fingers are untangling a moment later. Zenyatta’s expertly leave him without making too much extra contact, and then they’re there, Genji basking in the warmth of Zenyatta’s body as he straddles his thigh. Zenyatta’s processors are still working overtime, but much more quietly, as if he’s trying to catch his breath. Genji, on the other hand, is breathing deeply in his chest, forcing oxygen into his stuttering lungs.

While he waits for his body to catch up with his mind, Zenyatta lifts himself off of Genji and moves around him, settling into a sitting position and lifting Genji’s head to rest it in his lap. He rests one hand on Genji’s face, and instead of lighting him on fire, Zenyatta’s gaze just warms him, toe to tip.

When he can finally form words again, he looks up at Zenyatta, and can’t stop the sly grin from working its way onto his face. “Zenyatta,” he begins, low in his chest. “Did you… pass into the Iris?”

Zenyatta hums with amusement. “Did you experience it as well?” he asks in return, and Genji, instead of deigning him with an answer, reaches up to pull his face down so he can seal his lips against the faceplate.

**

A post-coital haze settles on Genji’s body like a fine mist. His ever present smirk is morphed into a lazy grin while sleep weighs on his eyelids. He knows his body will be ready to go again soon, but the events of the day, of the week, and their spar are catching up to him. Zenyatta’s hands cradle his head where it rests in his lap, and for a moment he can rest.

“Zenyatta,” Genji says with a sleep-thickened tongue, enjoying the way his master’s name tastes in his mouth: sweet, metallic, his. “I seem to have forgotten my suit on the roof.”

He can feel Zenyatta’s body vibrate when he laughs, deep and low. “I suppose it’s not as important as you thought, hm?”

Genji feels amusement bubble up in his chest, but he’s too tired to laugh. “It sounds like you just want me to stop wearing clothes again.”

This forces Zenyatta to pause, fingertips stilling where they dance on his face. He hums in his chest before he responds, bending over to look into Genji’s eyes.

“I do not mind either way. Though I must admit,” he adds, mischievous lilt in his voice. “Having this view reserved only for me sounds… appealing.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> so like this idea came about because... all the other omnics we've seen wear clothes?? ALL of them? so is genji just buck ass naked all the time?


End file.
